"All right," said the Ranger amiably. "If you want 'em as souvenirs, I'll not object. Suits me if it does you. We'll go now."
He tied to the handcuffs the end of the lariat which was attached to the saddle. The other end he fastened to the pommel.
"I'll not go a step with you," growled Dinsmore.
"Oh, yes, you'd better step along. I'd hate to have to drag you through this brush. It's some rough."
The Ranger swung to the saddle. The bronco answered the pressure of the rider's knee and began to move. The lariat jerked tight. Sullenly Dinsmore yielded.
But his spirit was unbroken. As he stumbled along in front of the horse, he filled the night with raucous oaths.
"Take these cuffs off'n me and come down from that horse," he stormed. "Do that, and I'll beat off yore head."
The man on horseback smiled. "You're the laziest fellow I ever did see, Dinsmore," he drawled. "The last fellow that licked me pulled me from the saddle."
"Just let me get a lick at you," pleaded the outlaw. "I'll give you that bronc you're ridin' if you'll stand up to me man to man."
"Can't do it. I'm here for business an' not for pleasure. Sorry."